


The Memory of Touch

by kethni



Category: Veep
Genre: Age Difference, Bittersweet, F/M, Loved from Afar, Season 4/5, Social Awkwardness, Touch-Starved, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:32:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6874471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kent held his hand out to help Meyer out of the raft. River water was sprinkled in her hair, sparkling like jewels. He registered the look in her eye a moment after he registered her small, wonderfully warm hand in his.</p>
<p>The first time she ever touched him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The tone ended up twisting strangely into angst and possibly a little obsessive.

She punched him, once. Not a slap. Selina Meyer didn’t mess around with slaps when she was angry. It was a punch. A punch to his shoulder, because she couldn’t reach any higher, and it didn’t exactly knock him off his feet. But it was a punch, and it stung.

She didn’t shake his hand, the first time they met. Politicians shook everyone’s hands, and then turned around and grabbed the sanitizer, because who knew where the public put their sticky, clammy hands? But Selina didn’t shake his offered hand, because she was already pissed at him for suggesting that Andrew be brought along on the presidential campaign. Well, that was the official reason. The fact that Kent’s strategy had turned Hughes’ campaign around and dumped Selina on her ass… that had _nothing_ to do with it.

Right.

Kent didn’t expect to be liked. He did think it was extremely unfair to be blamed for being good at his job.

***

She was sleeping with her nutritionist. Andrew was sleeping with his personal trainer. Neither of them was remotely discreet about it. It was the daughter that Kent felt for: a damp, limp girl continually sighing as she dragged herself in her parents’ wake. Then Kent accidentally walked in on her with a young male staffer. To Kent’s, admittedly inexpert eye, the staffer was reasonably attractive. Doubtless he was brighter than either of her parents’ paramours and subsequently proved far more reliable. Kent felt significantly better for Catherine after that. Loneliness was not something he would wish on anyone.

Kent had quite genuinely expected Meyer to enjoy the river rafting. She appeared to be reasonably fit. She had quite decent muscle tone. The rafting was out in the fresh air and the weather was beautiful. After days on and off the bus, in and out of factories and military bases, what wasn’t there to enjoy about it?

‘Where’s your life jacket?’ Meyer asked him, the first thing she’d deigned to say to him in days.

‘My…?’

Meyer turned to her chief of staff, a young woman whose competence was only matched by her tightly strung nerves. ‘Am I speaking fucking Swahili?’

‘I don’t believe that Mr Davison is getting on the raft,’ Amy said.

‘If we have to do this then he fucking does,’ Meyer said. ‘Christ, what’s next, ya gonna make me wrestle a bear?’

As he stood on the riverbank with Amy and watched the raft being paddled away, Kent allowed himself a small sigh.

‘People pay good money to do that,’ he said to Amy. ‘It’s a pastime of no small amount of popularity.’

‘It’s not the rafting,’ Amy said as they walked along, watching the raft. ‘It’s you.’

He looked at her. ‘It’s me?’

‘She hates you. You could suggest a visit to the world’s greatest chocolatier and she’d hated it.’

If Amy noticed him stiffening his shoulders, then she didn’t show it.

‘She hates me?’ Kent asked.

‘So, so much.’

‘Why?’

Amy cocked her head. ‘Does there have to be a reason?’

He frowned at that. People said things like that. Does there have to be a reason? Did it matter why Michael Kennedy and his little cadre bullied you? Did it matter why the other children giggled and whispered whenever you spoke up in class? Did it matter why Lilly Ives pulled that face and stepped back when you found the nerve to ask her to dance?

Yes. It mattered. Knowing was always better than not knowing. If you didn’t know then you couldn’t change. If you could change then you had a choice. If you didn’t know then you were simply at the mercy of mysterious, unfathomable forces.

Kent held his hand out to help Meyer out of the raft. River water was sprinkled in her hair, sparkling like jewels. He registered the look in her eye a moment after he registered her small, wonderfully warm hand in his.

The first time she ever touched him.

She yanked at his arm. It wasn’t subtle. It was a blatant attempt to drag him into the water.

He held his place for a moment, expecting her to give up, but she redoubled her efforts. So he pulled back.

She was smaller than he was, less strong, and tired from the rafting. Meyer crashed forward, lost her footing on the slippery pebbles, and fell.

A dozen camera shutters snapped. Kent caught her and pulled her upright. Her wetsuit soaked through his clothes. Her face pressed against his chest. She smelt of the river, some musky perfume, and a tiny tang of sweat.

Meyer found her balance. Turned to wave gamely at the reporters. Her smile was through gritted teeth.

Kent thought it wise to walk behind as they returned to the cars. Her lapdog dropped back to Kent’s side.

‘I’m onto you,’ the lapdog said with the insincere smile common to the passive-aggressive when trying to appear threatening.

‘What?’

‘I said I’m onto you,’ the lapdog said. ‘You heard.’

Kent didn’t expect to be liked. Meyer went out of her way to emphasise how much she _loathed_ him. It was… disheartening.

***

The nutritionist was cheating on her. No. Kent was _told_ that he was cheating on her. A modicum of investigation proved that the nutritionist was cheating _with_ her. On his wife.

‘Do ya think this is funny?’ she snarled at Kent.

‘Why would you think that I think that?’ he asked. ‘This is a potential disaster. Either you knew, in which case you will be dubbed a homewrecker, or you didn’t, in which case your failure to ascertain his marital status will see you dubbed a fool. How can you hold high office when you don’t even know that your lover is married?’

Her expression was murderous. Kent held up his hand. ‘I am merely suggesting the likely responses from the media.’

‘Do not mess with me, Kent,’ she snarled. ‘I’ve been doing this for twenty years. I’ve seen off better opponents than some flavour of the week math guy who Hughes is gonna get bored with within a month. You push me and I’ll fucking _bury_ you.’

‘The way you “buried” us in the primaries, Ma’am?’ he asked.

‘No, no, no.’ She waved her finger under his nose. ‘This isn’t about Hughes or your little campaign buddies. This is about you, personally. If you, Kent Davison, push me, I will bury you. Fucking clear enough for you?’

Kent shrugged. ‘I am sure that you will do your best,’ he said. ‘As you doubtless did your best to establish your lover’s marital status.’ 

‘You –’

What choice words she had in mind were lost to history as the nutritionist chose that moment to wander into the room.

Meyer screeched like a banshee and made an impressive attempt to disembowel him with her bare hands.

Kent looked at Gary-the-lapdog, running back and forwards without actually intervening in the attempted murder, and sighed.

‘Get him,’ Kent said, marching forward.

‘I don’t think –’

‘Evidently.’ Kent caught Meyer by the waist, lifted her off her feet, and stepped back. She was lighter than he expected, fragile as a sparrow, and cursing like a sailor.

She smacked her fists against his arm and kicked her heels back against his shins. He didn’t take that personally. He was just the person stopping her from murdering the nutritionist.

Gary, who was stronger than he looked, dragged the nutritionist out of the room. Kent was pretty sure that Gary “bumped” rather than bumped him against the door.

After a couple of seconds, Meyer stopped thrashing and Kent let her down.

Meyer turned and punched him in the shoulder. It was as high as she could reach and as hard as she could punch.

‘Don’t you _dare_ lay your hands on me! I am a grown fucking woman and I will have your god damn respect.’

He took a step back, hand rubbing his shoulder. ‘But I –’

‘Get out of my way.’

Kent knew better that to expect fair treatment, but that still stung more than the punch.

***

Meyer didn’t insist on anyone else standing up when she walked into a room. He knew she didn’t. He should probably be offended. He didn’t even know why she’d come in to see him, other than to metaphorically pee on his office floor.

He didn’t mind. Her thinking he was worth her insults was the closest to a compliment he was ever going to get from her.

She was looking surprisingly energetic, given the hour. Kent had been napping when Hughes called him. They discussed the possibility of Kent coming in, if the situation warranted it. From Hughes point of view, it wasn’t set in stone, but Kent’s polls had been unmistakable. Kent had wanted to arrive fresh so he took a nap.

He’d been enjoying himself. Bickering with Meyer was oddly pleasing for all she insulted him. At least she thought him worth the effort. He knew her problem. Empathised somewhat. It was the vice president’s lament: isolated, ignored, and blamed. None of that was his choice or his fault. He actually considered her quite useful. Certainly she had more potential use than simply taking the fall for the president. Standing safely aside and watching her rampage was a rather guilty pleasure.

Alas standing safely aside didn’t seem to be an option. She was convinced that in the narrative of her life he was her antagonist. Convinced that he was out to get her. Very well. If she was determined that he was the Big Bad Wolf, then he would make no effort to dissuade her.

***

It was rather a good essay, for what it was. Kent genuinely enjoyed reading it. Nonetheless, he was somewhat surprised that Catherine was naïve enough to imagine it wouldn’t create a stir. She hadn’t struck him as foolish. To the contrary, he suspected that there was an element of sabotage in her essay. It was perhaps unconscious. Perhaps not. Kent found himself rather ambivalent. If it were deliberate on Catherine’s part then he rather admired her spirit. Nonetheless, it couldn’t be allowed to stand. Potentially damaging relations with Israel in order to embarrass her mother would be quite astonishingly self-absorbed. Almost worthy of a politician.

He had actually argued against sending Meyer to the pig roast. She was quite capable of dealing with it, certainly, but knew that she would blame him for it. Did blame him for it, when he would have much preferred to have her nearby hating him than far away hating him. He wouldn’t have had to call that dimwit and have him stand in front of the hog roast. He didn’t blame her for that, frankly alarming, imagery, she had enough other things on her plate. He did blame her team. She was surrounded by idiots. The association of the vice president talking about Israel while standing in front of pork was bad enough. It was simply good fortune that there weren't memes pointing out that the vice president had been to a spit roast. The idea of trying to explain _that_ to her gave him indigestion.

Also, if she hadn’t gone to the pork festival then she wouldn’t have been wearing the hat. Dear lord, the hat. How could anyone who claimed to care for allow her to wear that thing? Gary-the-lapdog might be an excellent nomenclator but he was an appalling milliner. Kent was already spending more time then he should trying to protect Meyer from herself. The least the lapdog could do was not provide her with embarrassing hats.  

 

***

‘I’d kiss you right now, but I’m never gonna do that.’

Knowing was always better. But there were some things you knew, that you didn’t need to hear spoken aloud. Didn’t want to hear spoken aloud. Knowing them was painful enough, having them spoken, spoken by someone laughing and excited, was little short of cruelty. Cruelty that didn’t even care enough to be deliberate. Cruelty made crueller by being incidental and thoughtless.

After work Kent went to a bar. He hated bars. He felt like a spectator at the zoo. Behold the courtship rituals of 21st Century American Humans! He caught the eye of a couple of women. One decided she didn’t like what she saw. The other came over. Kent tried to make small talk. Couldn’t. She grew bored or uneasy, he wasn’t sure which, and made an excuse to return to her friends.

Nothing new.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The song was… disappointing. With Meyer he tended to choose that any attention was positive attention, but even he had a limit. Being mocked and abused when he could answer back was one thing. Being mocked and abused when he had to force a smile and sit silently was something else entirely.

Meyer didn’t understand the media. That was unfortunate but unremarkable for a politician. She didn’t understand the internet. That both more unfortunate and more unremarkable. If she had understood it then she would have realised why releasing that photograph was absolutely the correct thing to do. Politicians lived and died by publicity. That photograph was a _gift_. Literally as well as metaphorically. That Meyer failed to comprehend that was… unfortunate. But that didn’t alter his intent or its effectiveness. Her name recognition went up 12% overall and _43_ % among the under 25s. POTUS would’ve _killed_ for a 43% increase with the under 25s, but Meyer’s team completely failed to notice the improvement, let alone draw her attention to it. POTUS had no better idea what a meme was than Meyer, but he damn well knew he wanted it to be him and not her.

‘A meme cannot be manufactured,’ Kent lied to him.

There was nothing that couldn’t be broken down and explained by numbers. As with anything, the more data there was the more accurate the results. There was no shortage of data on memes and that meant it was relatively simple to identify what made a meme virulent. If only they could get a picture of Meyer with a cute cat…

 

The song was… disappointing. With Meyer he tended to choose that any attention was positive attention, but even he had a limit. Being mocked and abused when he could answer back was one thing. Being mocked and abused when he had to force a smile and sit silently was something else entirely.

‘You must be right under her skin,’ Stuart Hughes had laughed.

‘I’ve done nothing to provoke such… vitriol and if I did the same to her I would be rightly castigated for misogyny.’

‘Whoa there, Ike Turner, don’t go down that route. Your feelings are hurt. Grow a thicker skin.’

 

It had been entirely spur of the moment, which was in no way his usual manner of behaviour. What had he been thinking, offering his services to Meyer? She had always been brutally, viciously clear in her opinion of him. She would rather have a plague rat on her team.

He asked because he wished to be helpful. Kent was quite realistic. He knew that _helpfulness_ was the only commodity that she would accept from him. Being helpful, assisting her any way that he could, was more than enough for him.

Perhaps it was for the best. Kent had found that it wisest to seek silver linings where possible. He had no desire to open the door to the pit where he banished everything else.

 

‘Have you thought about Tinder?’ Henry asked.

‘Problematic,’ Kent said.

Rosalind rolled her eyes. ‘Good lord, Henry, your uncle works at the White House, he can’t go on Tinder!’ She dished out the food. ‘I can see the headlines now.’

‘As can I.’ Kent shrugged. ‘Rosalind, although your concern is appreciated, it isn’t necessary. I’m quite happy as a discrete unit. I have my work. I have my family. I don’t need any… complications.’

Henry raised his eyebrows. ‘So, maybe therapy would be a good place to go before Tinder?’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Rosalind snapped. ‘There’s nothing wrong with being single.’ She poked Kent with a spoon. ‘If that’s what you want.’

‘Which it’s not,’ Henry said.

Kent frowned at him.

‘What? It’s not,’ Henry said. ‘C’mon, don’t kid a kidder.’

Rosalind rested her chin in her palm. ‘He does have a point about therapy though. I wish you’d kept up that social interaction stuff mom signed you up for. It was definitely helping.’

‘That was a long time ago.’

‘So, now it’ll be even better. They’ll have learnt things to fix…’ Rosalind held up her hands. ‘Obviously “fix” was not the word that I wanted. Help. There will be new ways to help.’

‘I don’t need “help,” either,’ Kent said. ‘I’m fine.’

‘But you’d be fine-r with a girlfriend,’ Henry said. ‘Or a boyfriend! Way more acceptable nowadays.’

Rosalind threw a cloth at his head. ‘Fine-r? In this house we do not butcher the English language at the dinner table!’

‘I’m going to head out,’ Kent said, standing up.

‘No, you’re not. You haven’t even touched your food.’

‘Rosa, you know this kind of conversation… it makes me uncomfortable.’

Rosalind took a breath and forced a smile. ‘Okay, sit down and we’ll talk about something else. That includes you, Henry. Especially you.’  

***

Useful. Meyer made it blisteringly clear that she was only allowing him to offer his support during the build up to her campaign because he was useful. He was sure that he was supposed to be insulted. As if usefulness was something of which he should be ashamed. But she began to moderate her hostility towards him, which was an unlooked for benefit.

He imagined that it was simply a matter of practicality. It was one thing to aggress an occasional acquaintance but quite another to muster the energy for continual, daily antagonism. Not even the poor souls who worked directly with Jonah could manage that and they surely had far greater cause for it.

‘Come eat with me,’ Selina said to him, as they were on their way to Clovis. ‘What’re you doing, Gary? I just told Kent to sit down. Get out of the way.’

Gary glowered as Kent joined her at the table. Kent was too distracted to really notice. Gary rarely registered on Kent’s radar as anything other than a mild annoyance, buzzing in his ear.  

_‘I’m onto you.’_

He hadn’t said it since then, nonetheless there had been times when Kent had caught him staring. He hadn’t said it, but Kent had heard it nonetheless.

‘So, tell me all about Clovis,’ Selina said, sipping her coffee. ‘I try to keep up with technology but who has the time?’

Kent’s hand was resting on the table. As Selina put her cup on the table, the back of her hand brushed against Kent’s fingers.

The jolt of it made him clench. He almost pulled his hand away. It took every ounce of willpower for him to keep his hand there. To feel the burn of electricity from her skin.

She didn’t notice.

***

He wasn’t surprised to learn that Selina was sleeping with her trainer. Disappointed, but not surprised. She clearly valued physical fitness over mental acuity. It was hardly uncommon in a politician and he certainly didn’t judge her more severely than her male colleagues.

He was old fashioned about relationships. Naïve, perhaps. He wasn’t like so many of his colleagues who been married and divorced a dozen times over. He knew that he was probably unrealistic and perhaps simplistic in his thoughts about relationships. Since it was unlikely that his thoughts about the importance of intellectual compatibility and absolute loyalty were ever likely to be put to the test, he saw no point in second-guessing them.

Ray’s idiocy though was really _quite_ wearying. Kent spent as little time as possible speaking to the stupid or, God forbid, the general public. Ray combined the worst points of both. Kent had been forced to attempt several conversations with the man. The overall sensation was peculiarly like being trapped in quicksand. He did wonder quite what Ray and Selina found to talk about. Perhaps there was nothing. Perhaps the speculation itself proved his naiveté.

‘What about this girl, Sue?’ Rosalind prompted, over dinner.

Kent had a mouthful of food, which helped gave him several moments grace to think.

‘What about her?’

Several moments hadn’t been enough.  

Rosalind put her hand on her hip. ‘You’ve mentioned her a bunch of times.’

Kent starred down at his plate. ‘She’s an interesting woman.’

‘She sexy?’ Henry asked. He reddened under their twin stares. ‘What? You don’t wanna date her if you don’t think she is.’

Rosalind groaned softly. ‘You’re eighteen, Henry, _I’m_ supposed to embarrass _you_ not the other way around.’ 

‘But –’

‘No woman should be defined by a man’s determination of her sexual attractiveness,’ Kent said. ‘A better question would be whether she and I are well suited.’

‘Still think you should’ve gone with Tinder,’ Henry grumbled.

Rosalind touched Kent’s shoulder quickly. He stiffened.

‘That’s still really upsetting,’ she said.

‘I didn’t ask you to touch me,’ he said.

‘You know; most people don’t have to ask their siblings for permission before they can pat their bloody shoulder.’

Kent snorted a breath. ‘Please, tell me my failing as compared to “normal” people. That’s always a productive conversation.’

Rosalind sighed. ‘I don’t think you appreciate that it feels as though you’re continually rejecting me.’

‘But I’m not.’

‘That’s how it feels.’

Kent scowled at her. ‘I am not responsible for how you feel, Rosalind.’

‘You don’t have to be a dick about it!’ She jerked her head towards the door. ‘Henry, please go eat in your room.’

‘No way. I wanna hear this.’

Kent shook his head. ‘Do as your mother asks or I won’t take you sailing tomorrow.’

‘I’m an adult, y’know,’ Henry complained, putting his dishes on a tray. ‘I could get married. I could join the army.’

‘As long as you go eat in your room first,’ Rosalind said.

Kent waited until Henry left the room. ‘I apologise if I hurt your feelings.’

She leant forward and swiped her hand across the top of his head. ‘If? Do not give me that political equivocal nonsense.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘It was in no way deliberate or a rejection.’

She folded her arms. ‘You are my big brother and I adore you but you do _not_ make it easy.’

He played with his cutlery. ‘It’s not easy for me.’

‘I know, believe me,’ she said. ‘It’s simply that… there are times when you seem to think that gives you an excuse for not trying. I’m tired, Kent, I’m tired of being the only one who makes the effort to stay in touch. I make the invitations, I remind you about birthdays and anniversaries and everything else. You… you haven’t even asked about Craig.’

Kent winced. ‘I assumed that you would tell me if there was a change.’

‘That doesn’t mean you don’t ask,’ Rosalind said. ‘It shows that you give a damn.’

‘You know I do,’ he protested.

‘Perhaps I would like to talk about it,’ she said. ‘I have to be strong for Henry. I can’t tell him that I don’t know how long I can go on pretending. Craig hasn’t recognised me in weeks. On Saturday he called me a fat slut and threw a jug of water over me.’ She covered her face with her hands.

Kent tentatively put his hand on her shoulder.

Rosalind sighed and after a few seconds wiped her eyes. ‘I wish you would…try a little more. There are lots of therapies and strategies now for people who struggle with social interaction.’

Kent removed his hand. ‘I’m not broken, Rosa. Different isn’t automatically wrong.’

‘I want you to be happy,’ she said quietly.

‘I’m not… unhappy.’

Rosalind blew her nose. ‘Tell me about this girl, Sue.’

Kent shrugged. ‘Woman, and there’s nothing to tell. We went out a few times but it didn’t work out. Given we have relatively similar approaches to life I thought we might be a good fit. We were not.’

Rosalind smiled slightly. ‘Relatively similar approaches to life isn’t your usual type.’

‘Types are unnecessarily reductive,’ he said, waving a hand.

‘The other one, is she your usual type or not?’

Kent narrowed his eyes. ‘Other one?’

Rosalind walked over to the refrigerator. ‘I know when you’re nursing a crush.’ She took a bottle of wine out and opened it. ‘So fess up.’

Kent shook his head and accepted the glass of wine she held out. ‘You focus entirely too much on something that is a very small part of the rich tapestry of life.’

She poked him in the shoulder as she sat down. ‘Spill.’

‘There’s nothing to say,’ he protested. ‘There’s a woman, certainly, for whom I have a certain admiration. It is not returned nor will it ever be.’

Rosalind scrunched up her face. ‘Is she married?’

‘Rosalind!’

It made her giggle. ‘You spend all your time around the scum of the earth politicians! I’m sure you see twelve things every day far worse than a harmless infatuation with a married woman.’

Kent shook his head. ‘Why would you ask me such a thing?’

Rosalind took a gulp of her wine. ‘Never known you to crush on a woman who wasn’t unavailable, unsuitable, or otherwise unwise.’ 

‘Well, she does hate me.’

‘No she doesn’t!’

Kent raised his eyebrows.

‘Patronising?’ Rosalind asked meekly.

‘Yes.’

‘Sorry.’ She pushed her hair back. ‘Why do you think she hates you?’

Kent ticked the reasons off on her fingers. ‘Her chief-of-staff told me, she treats me with disdain, and she only deals with me at all because she deems me occasionally useful.’

‘Yikes,’ she said.

‘Indeed.’

Rosalind chewed her lip. ‘You’re not going to say anything to her. You’re going to pine and tell yourself that you’re fortunate to be near her.’ 

Kent spread his hands. ‘Accepting that we cannot change is generally considered the wisest course of action.’

‘She clearly doesn’t deserve you.’

‘This isn’t one of those ridiculous movies where two characters who hate each other turn out to be in love.’ Kent sipped his wine. ‘I realise that this is a distraction for you but I beg you to find some other diversion.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the updated tags which probably only apply for this chapter.

‘Christ, you’d think these assholes had just arrived from the middle of pig-fuck Alabama,’ Ben complained, watching Selina’s imported staff running to and fro.

‘They were working for the Vice President,’ Kent said dryly.

Ben adjusted his waistband. ‘Pretty much the same thing.’

‘Indeed.’  

Ben shook his head. ‘As long as Selina doesn’t get a fit of hysterics when she makes an address.’

Kent shuddered. ‘Witnessing it once was enough.’

They walked along the corridor.

‘Earned you some goodwill with her,’ Ben said. ‘Christ knew you needed it.’

Kent raised an eyebrow. ‘I believe that I have proved my worth.’

Ben waved an arm, taking in Mike sprinting down the corridor, and Dan almost squealing down the telephone. ‘Least you can be in the West Wing without having a fucking breakdown.’

‘It behoves us to demonstrate calm and controlled affects,’ Kent said. ‘As the most experienced as well as most senior staffers.’

‘When the fuck do you _not_ have a calm and controlled affect?’

 

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I obviously mistook you for someone who wasn’t a complete fuckwit. Whatever was I thinking?’ Bill sneered.

Kent looked down at his tablet, which was now in several pieces on the floor. ‘It’s traditional to look where one is going,’ he said. ‘You’ll find it leads to less occasions where you walk into _stationary_ objects and individuals.’

‘Perhaps if you were doing your job correctly you would have less time to stand around,’ Bill said. He took a step forward and almost tripped over an intern picking up the broken pieces. ‘Cower somewhere else, you idiot.’

Kent shook his head as Bill strode away.

‘I wasn’t cowering,’ the intern said as she stood up. ‘I don’t cower.’

‘Are you injured?’

‘No.’ She looked at the pieces in her hands. ‘I don’t believe this is repairable.’

‘No,’ he agreed.

She tilted her head. ‘I can try to recover the hard drive.’

Kent glanced at her pass. ‘Thank you, Leigh.’

She nodded. Turned. Walked away. 

***

It was nice. His office was nearby. Selina was treating him much like any other member of staff. She had asked his opinion on issues and sometimes took his advice. In negotiations he frequently sat at her left hand. Once, she was restless during a late running meeting, and her foot brushed against his shin.

‘Shit, sorry, did I catch you?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he lied, not wanting her to move back.

She did anyway.

***

She grabbed his face. Pressed her palms against his cheeks. Not in hysteria. Not in a sudden emotional outburst. Excited, yes. Happy, yes. But not out of control. Grabbed his face, looked in his eyes, and grinned. He couldn’t smile back.

She was so close. He could see a few centimetres of grey root in her hair. Hear her breathing. Feel the warmth of her skin branding his.

He jerked his face back. He couldn’t have stopped himself.

Selina didn’t seem to mind. She barely even seemed to notice. Kent straightened his tie. It didn’t mean anything. He’d simply been an easy outlet for her agitation.

She was dangerous, when she was excited. He’d seen her hug Ben in a sudden bout of joy. The chances of her doing that to _him_ seemed… remote. Nonetheless the possibility existed and had to be defended against.

He had attempted to keep his distance but Selina was small, speedy, and moved erratically when animated.

***

‘How’s your hand?’ Sue asked.

He thought that he saw some tiny glimmer of playfulness in her eye. ‘Badly bruised,’ he said, pouting.

She smiled slightly. ‘As badly as your ego?’

‘That was merely nicked.’

Sue raised an eyebrow. ‘I will have to try harder.’ She adjusted her paperwork. ‘I shouldn’t have slapped your hand. I know how you dislike being touched.’

‘I shouldn’t have broached your personal space,’ Kent said. ‘I know how you dislike it.’

She tapped her foot. ‘So we are both forgiven.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘But you required forgiveness more than I did,’ she added.

Kent held up his hands. ‘But of course.’

‘Good.’

He rubbed his moustache. ‘I don’t always dislike being touched,’ he said.

Sue raised an eyebrow. ‘Is this a prelude to sexual harassment?’

‘No.’

Sue kept looking at him. Kent turned and walked into his office.

‘Mr Davison.’ She watched him walk all the way back.

‘Miss Wilson?’

‘You left your cerise file,’ she said. 

‘You could have told me before I left.’

‘I enjoy watching you walk away,’ she said.

Kent raised an eyebrow. ‘Is this a prelude to sexual harassment?’

‘No.’

***

They were sat on the sofa. Selina’s dress rose as she crossed her legs. Kent forced himself not to look.

She twitched her pen in her fingers. ‘Y’know, the first time we were in this room alone together… things did not go so great.’

Kent scratched his brow. ‘As I recall, the worst occurred largely due to Gary’s presence.’

‘If he hadn’t been waving around that freaking lipstick…’ Selina shook her head.

‘A flattering colour appears to be vital importance,’ Kent said. ‘To Gary.’

She snickered. ‘For a second there I thought you were gonna say how hard it is for you to find flattering lipsticks.’

‘From a purely practical point of view I’m sure that would be true,’ he said carefully.

‘It’d probably get all caught up in your moustache and beard.’ Selina leant forward. ‘What’s the deal with that? Do you have some wicked scars under there?’

She was staring intently at his face. Kent looked away.

‘When I was younger I had somewhat neotenous features,’ he said. ‘I found that I was afforded more respect and treated more seriously with the beard.’

‘Neo what now?’

He made a circling gesture with his hand. ‘Youthful.’

Selina tilted her head. ‘Wait a second, neotenous? Like… neonatal? Are you telling me you grew a beard because you have a _baby face_?’

‘A beard imparts additional facial gravitas.’

She propped her elbow on the side of the couch. ‘When was the last time you were clean shaven?’

He shrugged. ‘In summer months when it is particularly hot I often clip it very close.’

‘Jesus, when was the last time you even saw your mouth?’

Kent reached for his cell, which was vibrating in his pocket. ‘Why would I wish to look at my own face?’

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘People do y’know. You never hear of selfies?’

‘Much like anti-vaxing, I have heard of the concept but cannot claim the slightest understanding of it.’

***

‘Mr Walsh is staring,’ Leigh observed.

Kent looked over his shoulder. Gary was indeed staring.

‘Mr Walsh is a brainless idiot who imagines that physical proximity to the president imparts authority and importance. It does not.’

Leigh nodded. ‘She doesn’t respect his opinion.’

Kent looked at her again, mildly surprised by this insight. ‘I believe that you’re correct.’

Leigh nodded. ‘She respects yours. She respects Mr Cafferty's. Mr Ericsson walks around in his expensive suit talking to people like they're idiots. I don’t think he knows what to do or how to do it. So he makes a big show to fool people.’  

Kent straightened his back. ‘Politics is full of such people. Bill Ericsson won’t last. As you have ascertained, he lacks ability in his job but not in gaining enemies. Sooner or later his fall will be expedient and nobody will come to his assistance.’

‘Good,’ Leigh said.

***

Blind dates. Was there any social interaction with a greater disconnection between one party’s intent and the other party’s experience?

Kent _despised_ blind dates. He had long since learnt to refuse Rosalind’s attempts at matchmaking, earnestly meant as they were. That she always genuinely believed _this_ time would work, only made the whole affair more disheartening. Repeated failures and his intransigence had gradually dampened, but not extinguished, her enthusiasm.

Alas, Ben’s wife was still suffering from an excess of confidence in her own matchmaking skills and a deficit in understanding Kent’s inability to connect. Ben had attempted to convince her of the futility, but to no avail. Kent had been unsurprised that she was immovable. He had observed that people of a certain age and marital status, particularly those with children, were often _firmly_ convinced that what everyone else needed was to live their lives in precisely the same manner.

So. A blind date. He had surrendered purely in the desire to foreshorten the misery. Better a few hours of extreme social unpleasantness than weeks of grinding harassment in the name of ‘his own good’ and ‘bringing him out of himself.’

As if he _wanted_ to increase his number of social interactions. The assumption that social extroversion was the norm to which everyone should aspire was one that set his teeth on edge.

Kent ordered a beer. He was in a burger bar with delusions of grandeur. Not his choice. Eating seemed better left until you knew each other better. There were so many potential pitfalls. He had no small talk at the best of times. The mental coordination required to do so while simultaneously not having one’s mouth full, dropping food, or making some other faux pas was a level of concentration that made _enjoying_ the experience utterly impossible.

He checked his cell. Mike was clearly visiting a new restaurant: his twitter feed was full of badly lit and terribly laid out photographs of food that was apparently sold by weight. Mike’s twitter was always a combination of appalling jokes, food, and retweets from vacuous celebrities. Kent never tweeted. That way public relations disaster lay. In any event, Kent was unsure who would be remotely interested in the minutia of his daily life. He was aware that he was considered boring. He didn’t particularly agree, but he didn’t care enough to argue the point either.

His cell chimed. It was eight o’clock, the time that he had agreed to meet his ‘date.’ He had been told that her name was Amanda and that she worked at an NGO. Ben had rather sheepishly described her as ‘chatty’ which Kent took to mean that she was going to chew his ear off. That wasn’t something that particularly bothered him. His ideal would be a companionable silence, but better for her to make conversation than sit fuming that he was unable.

‘Excuse me, are you Kent? I haven’t seen a photograph but the description seems about right.’

‘Amanda?’

‘That’s me.’

He stood up to pull out her chair. Amanda didn’t notice and sat down. Then she realised that he was stood up. She started to stand up as he sat down.

The waitress smothered a laugh. ‘May I get you a drink?’

Amanda squinted at the drink menu. ‘I’ll have the Knob Creek Single bourbon.’

The waitress winced. ‘That’s 120 proof.’

‘Honey, this is a blind date. I need to get as much alcohol in my system as I can as quickly as I can.’  

The waitress laughed uncertainly. ‘Ok…ay. How about you, sir, another beer?’

Kent nodded. If she was going to get drunk, he should certainly ensure that he didn’t.

As the waitress marched away, Amanda took off her jacket. Kent estimated her to be in her late forties to early fifties. She had dark, slightly frizzy hair that cascaded down her shoulders and halfway down her back.

When she sat up, he could see tear stains in her make-up.

Kent flinched.

‘So, you work in the White House?’ she asked too brightly. ‘What do you do?’

Kent took a sip of his beer. ‘I can’t talk about it.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep…’

He shook his head. ‘It’s classified.’

‘No, I get it,’ Amanda said. She fiddled with her menu. ‘Is it aliens?’

‘Is my job aliens?’ Kent pursed his lips. He wasn’t good with people who were _delicate_. He wouldn’t have actually claimed to be good with anyone, but he was particularly aware that the emotionally fragile required a gentle touch that he didn’t have.

Her smile fluctuated a little. ‘Chemtrails?’

‘No.’

‘Vaccines that cause autism?’

He frowned. ‘What possible reason could the government have for deliberately spreading neurodevelopmental disorders?’

Amanda’s expression crumpled. ‘Don’t be angry.’

His shoulders stiffened. ‘I’m merely... confused.’

Amanda twisted her fingers together. ‘Humour’s supposed to, you know, break the ice.’

‘Oh,’ Kent said.

‘Ben said, um, that you were, um, a bit nervous.’ She gratefully took her drink from the waiter. ‘I thought a joke might…’

Kent tried to keep a neutral expression. ‘Uh huh.’

Amanda shrugged and blew her nose on a Kleenex. ‘It’s absurd. Y’know. All the conspiracy stuff. As if the government would deliberately injure citizens.’

‘Actually, in Tuskegee in Alabama, the Public Health Service allowed African-Americans with syphilis to go untreated in order to monitor how the disease progressed.’

'Uh... oh.' She gulped down a mouthful of bourbon. ‘I suppose if they didn’t _want_ to be treated…’

Kent shook his head. ‘They weren’t told that they were ill. They were even discouraged from seeking medical attention elsewhere.’

‘Isn’t syphilis a terrible, awful way to die?’

‘Hideous,’ Kent agreed.

Amanda played with her glass. ‘Um. So.’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you divorced or…?’

‘Never married,’ Kent said.

Her eyes widened. They were a rather pretty blue. ‘Gosh, never?’

‘Never ever.’

She managed a little smile. ‘Why not?’

Kent tapped the menu with his thumb. ‘Relationships are difficult.’

‘Oh God, me too! And… people. People are so difficult.’

‘The world would be better without them,’ Kent said seriously. 

The waiter returned with a fresh round of drinks and to take their orders.

Kent gestured at Amanda.

‘Oh, should I… Shall I go first?’

‘That was the implication,’ he said.

Amanda reddened as she stared down at the menu. ‘Can I have the steak and fries big plate, please? With blue cheese dressing. Also onion rings and a strawberry milkshake.’

‘I’ll have the organic baby spinach salad and a glass of water,’ Kent said.

‘Big spender,’ she said, with an uncertain laugh.

Kent shrugged.

Amanda turned around to watch the waiter making his way across the room. ‘Do you think I should change my order?’

Kent blinked. ‘Why?’

She reddened again. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m a pig,’ she muttered, trying to laugh. ‘This is my first date since this divorce.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m out of practice.’

‘ _This_ divorce?’

Amanda drained her bourbon. ‘It’s my fourth. No, it’s my fifth.’ She gave him an awkward smile. ‘I’m not used to saying five.’

Kent raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought the only people foolish enough to get married that many times were in politics or show business.’

‘I’ve had a lot of bad luck.’

Kent folded his arms across his chest. ‘If you were struck by five cars, would you say it was bad luck or would you stop walking down the freeway?’

Amanda hiccuped and chewed her lower lip. ‘I was really hoping we might hit it off,’ she said softly.

‘I think that ship has said,’ Kent said. ‘Nonetheless we can still have a decent meal and…’

Crying. He detested it when people cried. He had no idea what to do in the face of open vulnerability and raw emotion. He could just about cope with Rosalind, who never wept long or conspicuously, and who generally responded to a pat on the hand or shoulder. Anyone else and he was almost paralysed.

‘There’s really no need to…’ He tentatively extended his hand and touched his fingers to the back of her hand. For about one and a half seconds.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone approaching.

‘Hey, it’s Kent, right? Jason. Catherine’s boyfriend? We’re just… Oh.’ The younger man backed a step away from Amanda.

‘Is Catherine here with you?’ Kent asked.

Jason looked blank for a moment. ‘She’s at the table. I thought I’d come over and say hi.’

Amanda gulped as Kent stood.

‘Do you think that she could… come over and talk to Amanda?’ Kent waved his hands vaguely. ‘Weeping isn’t really in my wheelhouse.’

‘Um, sure,’ Jason said. ‘This might be a chance for you and I to get to know each other. I have some ideas I’d love to run past you and Ben.’

***

‘I come bearing food.’

Rosalind was in pyjamas and a dressing gown. ‘It’s kinda late.’

‘I’ll go.’

She caught his tie. ‘No, c’mon. Don’t sulk.’

Kent walked through to the kitchen and started opening containers. ‘No Henry?’

‘On a Saturday night?’ she asked as if the question was nonsensical. She curled up on one of the wooden chairs. ‘What’s all this?’

‘A twelve-ounce steak with chipotle butter, steak fries, and a seasonal salad. Also, a baby spinach salad. And a strawberry milkshake.’

Rosaline nodded. ‘Okay, and the reason you have all this is…?’

‘I had to pay for the food and since Amanda had already gone it would’ve been wasted.’

She perked up immediately. ‘Who’s Amanda?’

Kent gave her a look. ‘The bundle of emotional distress disguised as a recently divorced woman with whom Ben insisted on setting me up on a blind date.’

‘I hope you didn’t call her that to her face,’ Rosalind said. ‘Don’t give me that look. I’ve heard you say worse.’ She scooped up a fry and took a bite. ‘She took off before the food arrived?’

‘Yes.’

She squeezed his knee. ‘Sorry.’

***

‘What the fuck did you do?’ Ben demanded.

Kent looked up from his computer. Ben had dark circles under his eyes and his morning shave was distinctly erratic.

‘Specificity would be useful.’

‘Last night! I set you up with a perfectly nice woman and you upset her so much that she turned up at our place bawling her eyes out. She was there all night! I didn’t get a goddamn lick of sleep.’

Kent folded his arms across his chest. ‘She was in no state to be dating anyone.’

‘She just got divorced,’ Ben snarled. ‘She’s desperate and lonely. I set you up with a slam dunk and you fumbled, stumbled, and bumbled.’

‘Is this the blind-date post-mortem?’ Selina asked.

Ben moved aside to let her into the room. ‘Have you been running around telling people?’ he asked Kent.

'I have not.'

‘No, no,’ Selina said. ‘But Catherine told me all about it.’

‘I was grateful for her help at the restaurant,’ Kent said. ‘I have little skill for dealing with distressed women.’

Selina snorted. ‘See, that was your… fourth mistake. Catherine couldn’t calm down a comatose sloth.’

Ben scratched at his scalp. ‘Fourth?’

‘One, letting a co-worker play matchmaker. Two, going on a blind date. Three, whatever the fuck that story was about syphilis,’

Ben turned to Kent. ‘Are you fucking kidding me? The woman just got fucking divorced and you babbled to her about crotch rot? Once in your life, would a little kindness have killed you?’

Kent flinched. ‘I tried to –’

‘Hey, that’s your fault for fixing her up with Kent,’ Selina interrupted. ‘He was dating Sue for fuck’s sake. What were you thinking setting him up with some fragile, weepy, divorcee?’

‘I was thinking he might like to meet a woman who wasn’t fucking terrifying,’ Ben said. ‘More fool me. Thanks a bunch, Kent.’ He stomped away, slamming the door shut.

Selina swung her hand idly. ‘Y’okay?’

Kent nodded.

‘Blind dates are a little desperate, don't ya think?’

Kent managed a flinch of a smile. ‘Ma’am, desperation comes to us all in different ways and different times. Additionally, Ben harangued me into it.’

‘Ah.’ Selina picked up a pen from his desk and fiddled with it. ‘Catherine said your date was a basket case.’

‘Divorced five times.’

‘Shit, really? Wow.’ She waggled the pen at him. ‘What the fuck was Ben thinking?’

Kent pretended to be interested in his tablet. ‘I believe that his wife was the motivating force.’

‘Ah. Selina twirled the pen around her fingers. ‘Obviously hysterical nut jobs aren’t your type.’

Kent forced a pained smile.  

‘So what is?’

He squinted at her. ‘What?’

‘What’s your type?’

His shoulders raised as he tensed. ‘Ma’am, please don’t… feel the need to “help” me.’

An odd expression passed her face, followed by the far more natural irritation. ‘I wasn’t gonna try to fix you up,’ she said. ‘God, my friends would eat you alive.’

Kent relaxed a little. ‘Is there something that you wanted?’

Selina shrugged. ‘Nope. Just came by to point and laugh.’

‘I hope that I was sufficiently amusing.’

Wonderful. There was nothing quite like being taunted about your lack of romantic prowess by the object of your affection. It wasn’t the first time. Kent was aware that there were gentle and nurturing women, or at least women who submitted to the social and cultural pressures to behave as though they were. Although he could get on with delicate flowers of femininity well enough, they never quickened his heart. He didn’t do well with vulnerability. It made him uneasy. Not because he distrusted it or harboured any peculiar resentment. He simply had no idea how to respond. No conception of how to ease suffering, as much as he wished to do so.

***

It had not been a good day and, as Kent approached the address on Leigh’s personnel file, he had little expectation of it improving.

He rapped smartly on the door. After a few minutes it was dragged open.

Kent held out the small leather-bound book. ‘I believe that this is yours.’

Leigh’s eye twitched. ‘Did you read it?’

‘No.’

‘Then why do you think it’s mine?’

‘It had fallen down the space behind the drawers in your desk,’ he explained.

‘Oh.’ Leigh took it from him. ‘You didn’t have to bring it.’

Kent shrugged. ‘You might have needed it. You are no position to return to the White House to retrieve it.’

She nodded once. ‘Would you like a coffee? That would be polite. Offering you a drink.’

‘It would,’ he agreed. ‘I would.’

She looked blank.

‘I would like a coffee.’

 

‘Did they fire me because I’m weird?’ she asked, looking at him over the lip of her cup. ‘Did they pick me because they found me socially awkward?’

Kent shook his head. ‘You were present at events that would’ve given you the relevant information. You were chosen because you had access. The decision was practical, not personal.’

Leigh took a sip of coffee. ‘I know that people think that I’m weird. And awkward.’

‘Not an uncommon experience.’ Kent tapped his thumb against his cup. ‘The average always seeks to neutralise the outliers. Yet it is the outliers that push change and revolutionise society.’

‘Because we’re on the outside,’ she said, straightening her back.

‘Quite so.’

‘Mr Egan said you asked I not be fired,’ she said.

‘Oh.’

‘Is that not true?’ She tilted her head. ‘I would like it to be true. But Mr Egan seems untrustworthy.’

‘It is true,’ Kent said, ‘and he is untrustworthy. I’m merely surprised that he would tell you that.’

Leigh gestured at the couch. They sat down.

‘He’s a strange man,’ she said. ‘I found him cold. Lacking in human empathy.’

‘Soulless,’ Kent suggested.

‘Yes.’

They drank their coffee.

‘My Ryan gave me his number,’ she said.

Kent drew his brows together. ‘ _Jonah_ Ryan?’ he checked. ‘Why did he do that?’

Leigh took a delicate sip of coffee. ‘He said I should call if I needed a shoulder to cry on.’

‘That might be what he claimed but I assure you his intentions were not pure.’

‘I wouldn’t consider Mr Ryan for emotional support. However, he may have had a point.’

Kent licked his lips. ‘Is there someone you would like me to contact for you?’

‘I hope that won’t be necessary.’ Leigh untied her hair and shook it out.

‘You’ve been subjected to a great deal of stress,’ he said warily.

Leigh folded her hands in her lap. ‘I am a vibrant and passionate woman, Mr Davison, she said. ‘Most men I meet cannot cope with that.’

Kent put his cup and saucer on the table. ‘Young men sometimes lack an appreciation for women who are complex and powerful in their own right.’

‘Yes.’ She took off her shoes and put them neatly under the table. ‘Are you religious?’

‘I don’t believe in anything that lacks scientific basis.’

Leigh nodded. ‘So you have no moral objection to sex outside of marriage?’

Kent silently shook his head.

‘Good.’ Leigh stood up. ‘I would like your assistance.’

‘Are you asking for… comfort?’

‘Yes. To feel less isolated and misunderstood.’

Kent stood up slowly. ‘You mean…?’

‘Sex,’ Leigh said. ‘And your compassion.’

 

Her bed took up most of the room. There was a handmade quilt on the bed and a rag rug on the floor. Leigh unbuttoned her blouse.

‘It occurs to me that we have a… significant age difference,’ Kent said carefully.

‘You’ve never patronised me before, Mr Davison,’ she said. ‘Please don’t start now.’

‘You should probably call me Kent.’

 

A breath.

A murmur.

She moved his hand with her much smaller one.

‘Here?’ he asked.

‘Yes, please.’

 

He caught her hand. ‘No.’

‘No?’

‘Too rough.’

‘Ah.’ She gentled her touch.

It was pleasant. Soothing. He tried not to think how long it had been.

 

She cried. Curled up across him. Face buried in his chest. Kent patted her back. Made the sort of faintly soothing sounds that he’d heard other people make.

After she settled, head on his shoulder, hand on his chest, he stroked her hair. She fell asleep. He fell asleep.

 


	4. Chapter 4

‘You give the worst hugs in the world,’ Rosalind said.

Kent dropped his arms.

‘I didn’t say stop.’

They were in Craig’s room, packing up his things. Kent had never been there before, although he paid towards the fees. It was a nice enough room. A little small. A little empty. It smelled faintly of disinfectant. He supposed that it was an innocuous enough place to end one’s days. If it looked like the Hilton and had a hundred nurses around the clock, Rosalind would still have felt guilty.

‘No photographs,’ Kent remarked.

Rosalind shook her head. ‘They were stolen.’

‘What?’

‘Along with two pairs of slippers and a dressing gown.’ She managed a smile. ‘They wander into each other’s rooms and steal each other’s shit.’

Kent raised an eyebrow. ‘Sounds like congress.’

Rosalind dried her eyes and look at him.

‘You know I’m not… good in these situations,’ he said. ‘I have no idea what to do or say.’

‘Ask me how you can help,’ she said gently.

He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘How can I help?’

Rosalind blew her nose. ‘You could arrange the funeral. Henry has lots of ideas. I think he needs something to concentrate on. It’ll be a lot of work but I have to sort out the money and the bills…’

Kent held up his hands. ‘Consider it done.’

Rosalind kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you.’

***

‘You’ve been moping around like Madonna outside an empty orphanage,’ Ben said. ‘C’mon, we’ve got a nasty, dirty job to do. It’ll be fun.’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be resigning?’ Kent asked, getting up.

‘I was, but Brown-Nosed Bill convinced Selina to refuse my resignation.’

Kent narrowed his eyes. ‘Why?’

‘Best guess, he thinks he can throw me under the bus later on.’

‘A cheerful thought.’ Kent followed him out and towards the rose garden. ‘What are we doing?

‘Ruining a young man’s hopes and dreams,’ Ben said, rubbing his hands together.

Kent put his hands on his hips. ‘I refuse to help you steal Easter eggs.’

‘Hey, that’d be fun. Let’s do that after we’ve fired Dan.’

‘We’re firing Dan?’

‘Told you it’d be fun.’ Ben spotted his quarry across the garden. ‘Let’s hope this one sticks better than Jonah.’

***

Selina slammed her hand on the desk. Kent winced.

‘What the fuck were you thinking?’ she demanded. ‘What possessed you to poll for VP?’

‘Apologies.’

‘No, numbnuts, I don’t want you to suck up to me. I want you to answer the fucking question. God! If I wanted you to be a yes man, I’d fucking tell you. Understand?’

Kent licked his lips. ‘Yes?’ he asked uncertainly.

‘Well?’

‘I wasn’t aware that we had agreed not to poll,’ Kent said.

Selina narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you saying _I_ didn’t tell you?’

He interlaced his fingers. ‘Amy appears to find her workload problematic, particularly since Dan left.’

Selina drummed her fingers on the desk. ‘Huh.’

Kent knew better than to allow the lengthening silence push him into speaking. It was an old trick but a potent one.

‘So you didn’t know,’ she said eventually.

‘I wouldn’t have done it if I had known.’ He found a viridian folder on the desk. ‘Polling is a routine and integral part of my duties. Nonetheless we had some interesting results.’

Selina took the offered folder and flipped through. ‘Did Hughes have you poll me?’

Kent was surprised to see a touch of colour in her cheeks.

‘You know what I mean,’ she said, scowling.

‘I thought I did,’ Kent said. ‘Uh, you polled very well for enthusiasm, dynamism, and charisma. All facets that were complementary to President Hughes.’

Selina snorted. ‘You mean him being Jabba the Hutt’s older, fuglier brother?’

Kent made a non-committal sound.

Selina sat down on the desk. ‘I always outshone the useless fucker. I bet that’s why he hated me.’

He hesitated a moment. All politicians wanted to be flattered and cossetted. Selina was aware enough to realise it was strategic but egotistical enough to demand that the pretence was convincingly real.

‘There were times when he felt that your star was too ascendant,’ Kent said carefully. ‘He was _extremely_ unhappy about the meme –’

‘That fucking thing?’ Selina folded her arms. ‘Why was he so pissed?’

‘We always struggled to build his recognition among 18-25 year olds,’ he said. ‘The meme saw yours increase by forty-three percent.’

‘Jesus! Why didn’t I know that?’

Kent spread his hands. ‘I wasn’t on your team at the time.’

‘Ya coulda told me.’

‘President Hughes specifically didn’t want that. Additionally,’ Kent paused to choose his words, ‘you might not have believed me.’

‘Oh.’ She waggled her foot. ‘We did have some communication and trust issues there for a while.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Still, those useless fuckers. Dan or Amy should’ve picked that up.’ She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. ‘Amy’s been with me a long time. Christ but she’s drowning. Don’t try to tell me that she’s not. I heard she went nuts on you at the press conference.’

He sat back in his chair. ‘Amy has always been… devoted to her work.’

Selina snickered. ‘That Kent speak for shoving you up against a wall?’

‘In this case.’

Selina patted his hand. He almost recoiled.

‘Thank fuck we got rid of Dan,’ she said, her voice a little tight. ‘There was another basket case. I swear you and Ben are the one ones keeping your heads above water.’

‘Age and experience have their benefits,’ Kent said.

Selina nodded. ‘Right, right. Even Sue is kinda stressed. For Sue.’ She gave him an odd look. ‘You two used to be… friendly. Didn’t ya?’

‘Not for some time.’

‘Gotcha,’ Selina said. ‘I wondered, ya know. When Catherine told me about the blind date disaster.’

Kent groaned softly. ‘My sister used to insist on my going on them all the time. I don’t recall a single one that ended well.’

‘Damn.’

‘The notion still persists culturally that to be single for any length of time is a failure. That personal contentment is impossible without a partner. Therefore, doubtlessly well-intentioned friends and family members become convinced that every unattached individual must require aid in finding someone.’

Selina tapped her foot. ‘You were never married?’

‘Correct.’

‘There’s your problem,’ she said lightly. ‘If ya were divorced or widowed or gay people would get it. People are assholes. They get twitchy when ya don’t play along with the stories in their heads. Ya can’t just be… married to your job, haven’t met the right person, or be too socially awkward to make it work. No. Ya gotta be a weirdo loner who peeps at women or abuses kids or something.’

Kent felt the blood leech from his face. ‘People speculate that I’m a sex offender?’

‘No! Fuck! I didn’t mean…’ She took a breath. ‘Not you as in _you._ I didn’t mean you. I was talking generally, not specifically. Specifically, most people around here think you don’t even have a sex drive.’ She gave him a peculiar smile. It was almost… nervous. ‘You do though. Don’t ya?’

‘I enjoy female company as much as any other heterosexual man,’ he said, bewildered. ‘Ma’am, if you are concerned that I am some variety of predator –’

She burst out laughing. Kent squirmed backwards in his chair.

‘Jesus Christ!’ she sniggered. ‘Sorry. Genuinely. Fuck. That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in ages. Before I worked in politics I worked in law. I’ve met more gropey, leery, rapey men then you’ve had boat rides and you aren’t on the same planet as those fuckers.’

Kent relaxed a fraction.

Selina waved a hand. ‘No. When I was in college, there was this kid, honest to God genius, fifteen or sixteen. Jumped a bunch of grades, ya know. Just crazy, insane smart. Couldn’t hold a conversation about the weather or movies or any normal shit but he’d chew your ear off about fluid dynamics or some fucking thing. Sweet kid. Helped me move one time. I kissed his cheek and he turned bright red and ran away. Didn’t talk to me for a week he was so embarrassed. That’s you.’ She gave him the peculiar, nervous smile again. ‘It’s kinda charming. A pain in the ass. But charming.’

‘I see,’ Kent said stiffly.

‘Ya see because –’

‘If we’re done here, Ma’am, I have work to do.’

‘No, but –’

‘I’m very busy,’ he said, turning to his computer.

Selina flushed red as she stood up. ‘Ya don’t have to get on your high fucking horse about it.’

‘Ma’am.’

‘Learn to take a compliment,’ Selina muttered.

Learn to give one. He didn’t say it. What was merely an amusing anecdote to her had clearly been agonisingly embarrassing to that boy. A boy who, yes, did sound very much like Kent at that age. Years of painstaking work and hard won improvements had clearly been for nothing. He was still that boy. Still incapable of meaningful communication let alone connection. A weirdo. A loner. Possibly a pervert. It would have been disconcerting coming from anyone. Coming from Selina… 

***

 Although he had already tried and failed, Kent made one last ditch effort.

‘I don’t believe this is the wisest course of action,’ he said.

Rosalind shook her head. ‘No.’

‘No?’

‘You’re not wriggling out of this,’ she said, taking off her seatbelt.

Kent sighed as he got out of the car. ‘Rosalind, I’m not ready.’

She zipped up her jacket. ‘Kent, you need this. It’s time to move on,’ she said gently.

‘It’s not nearly as simple as you’re implying,’ he protested. ‘There has to be a… chemistry that can’t be forced or manufactured. A relationship has to grow organically.’

Rosalind took his arm. ‘You’re making excuses.’

They reached the front door and Kent pulled it open. ‘I’m simply saying that moving on isn’t something that’s done to a timetable or calendar.’

She gave him a look. ‘You need this. It’ll cheer you up.’

‘That is the worst possible reason to do it.’

Rosalind rolled her eyes. ‘That only applies if you’re not going to take it seriously. I know you will because you always do.’ She rapped on the inner door with her knuckles. ‘Kent, look at me. You are going to make one of these girls very, very happy.’

Kent took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Right.’

‘Or boys,’ Rosalind said. ‘Or maybe one of each. If you find two they can keep each other company.’

The door was opened by a young female volunteer in overalls and sturdy boots. ‘Hi! Cats or dogs?’

‘Cats,’ Rosalind said firmly.

***

‘Is a tabby a good idea?’ Rosalind asked.

Kent didn’t look up. He was knelt on the floor, waggling his fingers at a nervous tabby. ‘They’re my preference.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘But when you’re in the house and you catch a flash of the cat out of the corner of your eye won’t there be an awful moment of hope when you think it’s Fibonacci?’

He sighed. ‘I’ve caught sight of _pillows_ from the corner of my eye and had that happen.’

Rosalind squeezed his shoulder.

 

 

He was looking at a tiny, terrified Siamese kitten when he heard Rosalind giggling.

‘Kent, Kent, look at these. Don’t look at me that way. You’ll understand when you see.’

‘What?’ He saw an elegant, long-legged, dark tortoiseshell and another, chunkier orange cat. He knelt down and the tortoiseshell trotted over and chirped at him.

‘Look at the names,’ Rosalind said.

Kent pressed his fingers to the mesh as he glanced at the little name plate. ‘Schrodinger and Copenhagen?’ he asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up a little.

‘Schrodinger is the tortoiseshell,’ the volunteer said. ‘She’s into _everything_ but she’s very friendly.’

‘She’s licking my fingers,’ Kent said, looking back at her.

‘She’s a little cross-eyed,’ Rosalind said.

‘Cats tend to be a little long-sighted,’ the volunteer said. ‘So they can struggle a little to focus on things very close up.’ She moved closer. ‘These two will need to go together. That’s non-negotiable. Copenhagen takes quite a while to warm up to people but once he does he’s very loyal and affectionate in his own way.’

‘Gee, fancy that,’ Rosalind murmured.

Kent scowled at her. She smiled sweetly.

 

Kent pulled back his sheets and climbed into bed. He’d left the cats in the spare room, allowing them to get used to the space in their own time. He was quite aware that cats couldn’t be rushed or pushed into their owners’ schedules. If one were even to cling to the idea that one ‘owned’ a cat. Kent was quite aware that patience was required. Fortunately, that wasn’t something that he found problematic.

Kent rolled onto his side. He heard a faint creak and then the tap, tap of claws on his hardwood floor. After a few seconds his bedroom door was pushed open. There was an inquisitive _chirp_.

‘Schrodinger?’

She jumped up onto the pillow beside him, and pushed her face against his. Kent sat up a little and scratched her under the chin until she purred like an engine. He lay down again as she turned round and round on the pillow.

There was a heavy thud as Copenhagen jumped up and plodded behind Kent’s knees.

‘Guess I’m not moving anywhere tonight.’ Kent gave Schrodinger a pat before turning off the lamp and closing his eyes.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

It was the scent of Sue’s perfume that alerted Kent to her presence next to him. He disliked social gatherings at the best of times. A social gathering made up of co-workers who were stressed, near hysterical, and increasingly drunk was a particular variety of hell. Kent had a great deal of sympathy for Tom James’ stunned expression.

Sue had an almost empty glass of champagne. He held up the bottle next to him.

‘Yes.’

They were a little way from the main party. Selina’s near frenzy had modulated down a couple of nodules but not enough.

Sue caught Kent’s eye. Her eyebrow twitched a fraction which was, for Sue, quite significantly expressive.

‘So, today,’ Kent said.

‘Today,’ she agreed.

They both drank. Kent refilled their glasses.

‘Amy,’ she said.

‘Indeed.’

She glanced at him. ‘Campaign manager?’

Kent sighed. ‘For now. The job appears to have the same life span as –’

‘As one of POTUS’s lovers?’ Sue suggested.

‘If that.’

They both drank.

Selina hollered Kent’s name, and waved at him. ‘Hey, c’mere. I wanna talk before you head back to your room.’

She might have thought that was a signal for the rest of them to leave. If she did, then she was doomed to disappointment.

‘Be careful,’ Sue said.

Kent looked at her.

‘We are rapidly running out of competent staffers,’ she explained.

‘Ah.’

 

Kent followed Selina into the bedroom. He found his back clenching as he shut the door. Selina’s bedroom. There was a tangle of shoes on the floor and a selection of cosmetics on the dressing table. As he turned to face her, he saw a bra hanging on a door handle. It was all so… personal.

Selina was taking off her shoes. She had never been good at maintaining appropriate boundaries. Kent _liked_ boundaries. He liked it when other people respected his. It made him deeply uncomfortable when people breached them.

‘Siddown here,’ Selina said, patting the bed.

Kent sat down, his elbows tucked in and his knees pressed together. Selina blew out her cheeks.

‘Jesus, can you believe today?’ she asked.

‘It was certainly eventful.’

‘Good job, you know, picking up the campaign manager ball when I threw it.’ Selina put her hand on his knee and squeezed. ‘Appreciated it.’

His bland expression was wavering. Her hand was on his knee. He was losing feeling in his legs.

‘It was necessary,’ Kent said. ‘Tom needed to hear that everything was in hand.’

An unfortunate turn of phrase. She had him in hand, metaphorically and literally.

He had no wish to be campaign manager. He was too experienced, too mature, and too aware of the unique combination of powerlessness, responsibility, and ephemerality, to consider it desirable.  

‘Exactly,’ Selina said. ‘Tom needed to be reassured. You did that. A firm hand on the tiller.’

Kent nodded. _A firm hand_. ‘I would also appreciate some reassurance.’

Selina waved her free hand. ‘You’ll carry on as senior strategist, obviously. You’re not being thrown under the bus, okay?’

‘Thank you, Ma’am.’

Selina swivelled to face him. ‘Can ya believe Amy?’

‘It was… a display.’

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘I suppose you’re gonna say I told ya so.’

Kent shook his head. ‘I don’t believe that I did.’

‘Well, ya told me she had a lot on her plate. In Kent-speak that’s like saying someone’s frothing at the mouth.’

He held up his hands. ‘I did not foresee a spectacular blow-up.’

‘Well that’s not good enough.’ She was smiling a little. A joke, then. ‘Bit distracted with your vibrant love life, are ya?’

That made him blink. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Redhead is she?’

Kent stared at her blankly. ‘Redhead?’

She plucked something from his shoulder and held it up. ‘Red hair. Interesting shade.’

Kent narrowed his eyes as he focussed on it. ‘Red fur,’ he said. ‘I believe that is from my cat.’

Selina snickered. ‘Your _cat_?’

‘Copenhagen,’ he said. ‘He’s the one who imitates a fur stole.’

Selina brushed his shoulders with her palm, and he swallowed. ‘Geez, look at ya. Cat hair. You gotta get yourself a Gary. Someone needs to look after ya.’

Kent squirmed away. He couldn’t help it. ‘I will ensure that doesn’t happen again.’

She cleared her throat. ‘So, cat guy, huh?’

‘Yes.’

‘More than one?’

‘Two,’ Kent said. ‘Currently. Two is about as many as is practical for one person.’

‘I had a pony,’ she said, ‘when I was a kid. My mom had dogs but they were, ya know, they were _her_ dogs. Ever have a dog?’

‘I don’t dislike dogs,’ he said. ‘They’re simply not my preference.’

‘Sure. Sure.’ Selina was obviously trying to think of something to say. ‘I guess cats are more… practical than dogs. You don’t have to walk them and shit.’

Kent licked his lips. ‘There is that. Additionally, dogs love unconditionally. They believe that their owners are infallible. Cats believe their owners are idiots. They demand their affection be earned.’

She tilted her head. ‘Traditionally unconditional love is kind of a big deal.’

‘It’s meaningless,’ he said bluntly. ‘Another word for free is “worthless” and with good cause. Affection that is earned, that acknowledges flaws and weaknesses, has genuine value.’

‘Wow,’ Selina said quietly.

‘Forgive me,’ he said standing up. ‘Obviously I had too much champagne.’

‘Oh, no, no,’ she said. ‘I asked you, so…’

Kent gestured vaguely towards the door. ‘I should go. I have to arrange access to Amy’s files and review her campaign schedule.’

Selina’s shoulders dropped. ‘Uh, yeah.’

He had his hand on the door handle when she spoke again.

‘Kent?’

‘Ma’am?’

‘Is Amy… Are we…’ She sighed. ‘I just… I need someone to tell me that everything is going to be okay.’

Kent nodded. ‘Ma’am, everything is going to be okay.’

Selina squared her shoulders. ‘Thank you.’

***  

Gary threw his arms out, blocking the doorway. ‘You can’t go in!’

‘What’re you talking about, you human doorstop?’ Ben demanded. ‘She just called for us.’

‘Not you,’ Gary said. ‘She doesn’t mind seeing –’

Ben shoved him aside and walked through the door with Bill behind him.

‘Not you!’ Gary hissed, trying to block Kent.

‘What?’

‘She doesn’t want you to see… That is, she doesn’t want to see you.’

Sue got up from her desk, seized Gary by ear, and dragged him away from the doorway.

‘Thank you,’ Kent said.

‘I have no desire to have either of you cluttering up my work area,’ she said.

Kent followed the others into Selina’s bedroom. Her bed was awash with used tissues. Her nose and eyes were raw red and perspiration was prickling at her hairline. She looked up when Kent slipped into the room.

‘Oh, you… made it, Kent,’ she croaked. ‘Remind me to thank Gary.’

***

She snored. Hardly surprising given her illness but the volume was quite impressive. Kent cleared his throat but it was half-hearted. He needed her to be awake but he didn’t want to be the one to disturb her.

Outside the room, someone dropped some files. Selina awoke with a snort.

‘What, what?’ she asked. A bubble of mucous blossomed in her left nostril.

Kent stepped forward and offered her a Kleenex. Her face flushed red as she snatched it from him.

‘God fucking damn,’ she muttered. ‘Nobody else has to work when they’re fucking dying.’

‘I really do need you to check these figures,’ Kent said.

She glared at him. ‘Your sympathy is overwhelming.’

Kent flinched. ‘I –’

Selina shook her head. ‘Forget it. I don’t wanna talk to you about being sick. I bet you never get sick, do ya? Always so fucking… calm and put together.’

‘I had appendicitis when I was eleven,’ he offered.

She looked up at him through rheumy eyes. ‘Yeah? That sounds shitty.’

‘It was unpleasant,’ he accepted. ‘I collapsed at school. That caused subsequent embarrassment on top of the immediate unpleasantness.’

Selina blew her nose. ‘You get embarrassed?’

‘Certainly,’ he said. ‘I’m simply better at disguising it then I used to be.’

‘Look at you. Almost human,’ she muttered, managing a weak smile.

‘I won’t tell if you won’t.’

She took the papers from him. ‘That it, appendix when you were eleven?’ 

‘For illness? I had the usual. Measles. Mono.’

She smirked at that. ‘Oh yeah? Who’d ya get that from?’

Kent smiled slightly. ‘Jessica Ketterman. Two years older than I was.’

‘Same grade? You skipped grades didn’t ya, own up?’

Kent shuffled his feet. ‘It’s not that unusual.’

Selina coughed. ‘Was it worth it? The mono. Not the grades.’

‘I thought so at the time.’

‘Toby Hammond,’ Selina said. ‘My first kiss. It was fucking terrible. Teenage boys are god damn awful kissers.’

‘Enthusiasm is a poor substitute for practice and patience.’

Selina looked at him, her gaze dropping from his eyes to his mouth, and then up again. ‘Jessica whatshername your first kiss?’

‘Ketterman. Yes. I suspect it was a wager on her part.’ He shrugged at her expression. ‘Teenage girls tend to aspire to young men, not ungainly adolescent boys with puppy fat and a diastema.’

Selina squinted at him. ‘A what now?’

Kent pointed at his mouth. ‘A gap.’

‘Between your front teeth?’ her voice cracked in surprise, and she began coughing.

Kent fetched her a glass of water. ‘I’ll go,’ he said.

She shook her head and coughed for a few more seconds. Then she lay back against the pillows.

‘Puppy fat, a gap between your teeth, and a baby face. You should’ve been in a boy band.’

Kent’s cheeks warmed slightly. ‘The diastema was corrected before I began shaving. Braces.’

‘Okay, I need to see photographs,’ she said.

‘Absolutely not.’

***

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

Kent rubbed his forehead. ‘Rosa, you are overreacting.’

‘You slept with a girl young enough to be your daughter!’ she groaned. ‘Almost your granddaughter.’

‘Not really.’

Rosalind slapped his forearm. ‘What were you thinking?’

‘She was unhappy,’ he said. ‘She asked me for comfort. I… was lonely.’

‘Oh Kent,’ she said, putting her head in her hands. ‘People will say that you took advantage of her. Christ, what if they say you got her fired so you could fuck her?’

‘None of those things are true!’

She put her hand over his and squeezed. Kent tensed but managed not to yank his hand back.

‘You know that doesn’t make any difference. If she goes to the press they won’t _care_ it isn’t true. They won’t even ask!’

Kent squeezed her fingers then retrieved his hand as gently as possible. ‘She won’t go to the press.’

‘You’ve always been too trusting with women.’

‘Rosa, there are far worse things that she could report. Things about work that are undoubtedly true.’

She sat back. ‘Yeah?’

‘Certainly.’

‘I worry.’

‘I know.’

Rosalind chewed her cheek. ‘So, with this girl –’

He held up his hand. ‘Leigh.’

‘With this girl, Leigh, is it… is it a thing?’

Kent shook his head. ‘No. We’re not together.’

‘Does she know that?’ Rosalind asked gently. ‘You don’t always pick up on subtler cues.’

Kent got up and crossed to the bar. ‘Certainly she knows,’ he said, refilling their drinks.

‘So, she’s not in love with you?’

Kent rolled his eyes as he handed her the glass. ‘Of course not.’

Rosalind took a sip. ‘Are you saying that because you can’t imagine anyone falling in love with you?’

He winced. ‘I’m saying it because it’s true. We slept together, once, weeks ago. She made no attempt to contact me or stay in touch. If she had romantic feelings for me I’m quite sure that she would have done.’

Rosalind nodded. ‘That does make sense.’

‘Good.’

‘ _Except_ ,’ Rosalind said, ‘what if she’s like you?’

Kent narrowed his eyes as he sat back against the couch. ‘Precisely what does that mean?’

‘It means that when you like someone, truly, deeply like someone, you run away like Mom seeing a dragonfly. All flapping arms and squealing in terror.’

‘Don’t try to make me laugh.’

Rosalind sighed. ‘But it’s true. I never met anyone as terrified of taking a chance on someone that they’re nuts about.’

Kent drained his drink. ‘You’re talking nonsense.’

‘Isn’t it worth a try? This woman that you admire. The worst she can say is no.’

‘You know better than that,’ he said sharply. ‘The worst they can say is anything that comes after “because.” No, because I don’t like you. No, because you’re too weird. No, because you make my skin crawl. No, because you disgust me. No, because you’re not good enough and you never will be.’

‘Jesus, Kent, none of that stuff is true,’ Rosalind said. She reached for his arm but he moved away.

‘Leigh is a nice girl,’ he said. ‘Bright. Capable. Sensible. She’s not in love with me. She doesn’t want anything from me.’

‘That’s not… Kent, you’re good enough. For anyone. Okay? If anyone has ever told you differently then I will kick their ass. You hear me? You’re just a little more complicated, that’s all. If anyone is stupid enough or short-sighted enough to think that you’re creepy or… or any of that other stuff, then that’s their loss. God! I could punch a wall.’

Kent sighed. ‘I should go.’

‘Look, if this Leigh girl –’  

‘No,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘There’s no happy-ever-after there, Rosa. Even if we were a compatible age, Leigh and I simply don’t spark that way. We’re friends. That’s a perfectly valid relationship.’

Rosalind looked at her hands. ‘You’re so frightened of being hurt. What if you’re missing out on something great?’

***

Selina was pacing. ‘You guys have done this before.’

‘Many, many times,’ Ben said.

‘Indeed,’ Kent said.

‘Well, not me,’ Bill said. ‘I’ve never done it before.’

‘Then you’re no fucking use are ya?’ Selina snapped. ‘Go on, get the fuck out.’

Bill looked around the room for support but found none. He picked up his tablet and his files and shuffled from the room.

‘He is seriously getting on my tits,’ Selina said.

‘He’s a lightweight,’ Ben said. ‘Ironically, given the size of him.’

‘Ma’am, the important thing is that we remain united,’ Kent said.

‘Great,’ Selina groaned. ‘We’re fucked. That dick doesn’t have a loyal bone in his body. Plus, neither Dan and Amy are gonna cover for us.’

Kent made a so-so gesture. ‘Amy and Dan rely on our goodwill in order to work effectively as lobbyists.’

‘And if they screw us over,’ Ben said, ‘we can screw them over. There’s nobody to worry about except maybe that girl. Whatsherface.’

‘The one Dan fired?’ Selina asked.

Kent tensed. ‘Leigh Patterson,’ he said, his voice tight. ‘I… I doubt that she has any information that would be directly useful to the committee.’

Ben put his hands on his hips. ‘She’s a loose cannon.’

‘We have already slandered her once,’ Kent said. ‘Could we avoid compounding that?’

‘Hey, she came to work here,’ Ben said. ‘She knew the risks.’

‘I sincerely doubt that any intern has ever started working here with the knowledge that they might be scapegoated for the accidental outing of a child with AIDS.’

Selina cleared her throat. She had gone rather red in the face. ‘Ben, could you give us five minutes?’

Ben looked at her in confusion. ‘Uh, sure, Ma’am. I guess I’ll wait outside.’

Selina’s hands clenched into fists as Ben shut the door behind him.

Kent shifted from foot to foot. ‘Ma’am?’

‘How long?’ she growled.

Kent took a step back. ‘How long?’

She punched his shoulder, hard. ‘How long have you been fucking that… _teenager_?’

Kent clutched his shoulder. ‘Ma’am we… it was… we had sexual intercourse one time only. It was just after she had been fired.’

Selina punched his other shoulder. ‘I am so fucking disappointed in you.’ She stalked away to the chair. ‘I thought you were better than those pathetic losers who go chasing after interns and girls barely out of diapers.’

Kent looked away. ‘I didn’t… pursue her. It was her suggestion.’

‘Of course it was,’ Selina sneered. ‘Look at you. You couldn’t seduce anyone. Not even with a bucket of booze and a bottle of roofies. I bet all she had to do was snap her fucking fingers and you came crawling. Desperation is really fucking unattractive and you stink of it.’

‘I don’t deserve that.’

‘Excuse me?’

Kent braced his shoulders. ‘I don’t deserve personal abuse. I haven’t broken any laws and I am quite aware that women do not find me captivating, charming, or charismatic. Contrary to what people like you evidently think, people such as myself are excruciatingly aware that we are considered weird, unpleasant, and unlikeable.’

Selina lowered her voice. ‘Fuck, Kent, I didn’t –’

‘Madam President, you don’t _know_ me. You barely tolerate me. I am simply one of the men in suits who services your presidency. You can’t even remember Leigh’s name. Frankly you are in no position to judge us or the mistakes that we may have made in loneliness and unhappiness.’

She looked out of the window. She was quiet for so long that he started to wonder if he should leave.

‘I guess I don’t know you,’ she said eventually.

‘Leigh is a former staffer,’ Kent said, sighing heavily. ‘It could be argued that anything she says that is detrimental might be due to resentment or disaffection.’

She looked back. ‘You’d be okay with that?’

‘No,’ he said, and shrugged. ‘But my happiness has never been an issue.’

‘Okay.’

‘How… How did you know about Leigh?’ he asked.

Selina snorted. ‘Gimmie a break. You looked like you were about to shit a brick.’

‘Ah.’

She took a drink of water. ‘What did you mean: people like me and people like you?’   

Kent shrugged. ‘You’re polished, beautiful, and socially skilled. You have everything and struggle to comprehend those of us that have nothing.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t think there’s the kinda gulf that you’re talking about.’

‘How many proms and dances did you sit out because you couldn’t get a date? How many parties were you excluded from because you didn’t fit in? How many jobs did you fail to get because you didn’t fit?’

‘Well, none, I don’t think. But –’

‘Precisely.’

Kent’s temper had always burned slowly. He had an unfortunate tendency to dwell on things, to fan the sullen embers until his irritation deepened into anger and more.

Disappointed? She was disappointed? He had met several of her lovers. The hypocrisy of being ‘disappointed’ when she had slept with Ray, with Andrew, was astonishing. She thought he was better than that? Than what, trying to ease someone’s distress? She thought he was better than succumbing to the need for affection no matter how fleeting?

He wished that she was right. He knew she wasn’t.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final part of the story. The ending was originally completely different but following feedback I decided to completely alter it. If you're interested in reading to original ending, it's on my tumblr at http://kethni.tumblr.com/post/146159268036/the-memory-of-touch-alternateoriginal-ending

Kent, sat playing Sudoku, was waiting to be called before the committee. Bill was pacing.

‘How are you so calm?’ Bill asked. ‘It makes no sense.’

‘Mediation helps.’

‘What?’

Kent glanced up. ‘It’s not religious. It’s a psychological technique. A way of centring yourself, letting go of unnecessary stress, and clearing your mind of extraneous thoughts.’

‘Thanks Buddha, but we’re going in front of a congressional committee. All of my stress is necessary and all of my thoughts are vitally important,’ Bill sneered.

Kent shrugged. His cell began to vibrate. Rosalind’s number was on the display. He frowned as he answered: she knew he was waiting to be questioned.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m watching your girl on C-Span,’ she said. ‘She’s not what I expected.’

‘What did you expect?’

‘Hmm, someone more glamorous maybe. She’s terribly angry. You didn’t tell me the poor girl had been so badly treated.’

Kent swapped the cell to his other ear. ‘Rosalind, it’s not something I can discuss with you.’

‘I just thought you’d like to know that she’s calling someone called uh, Walsh, and someone else called Ericsson. Do either of those mean anything to you?’

Kent looked at Bill, who was now haranguing a stray reporter. ‘What?’

‘I think that’s what she said. Gary Walsh and Bill Ericsson. Do I have them wrong?’

‘They’re staffers,’ Kent said carefully. ‘I don’t understand her reasoning in identifying them.’

Rosalind made an uncertain sound. ‘Does it matter if they’re not you?’

‘Spoken like a politician.’

She laughed. ‘If you’re going to be offensive then I’m going to go back to watching your one-night stand.’

‘What was that?’ Bill demanded. ‘Is there news? What’s going on?’

Kent held up his hands. ‘Evidently Ms Patterson has just implicated Gary –’

‘Walsh? He couldn’t plot a… graph.’

‘And you.’

‘Excuse me?’ Bill asked. ‘She’s implicated me?’ He clutched his pocked as his cell vibrated. ‘She named me?’

‘So I was told.’

Bill yanked his cell from his pocket and checked it. ‘She did. She named me. Why would she do that? That’s not a rhetorical question, Kent, I want an answer!’

Kent put his cell away. ‘She doesn’t like you. Other than that I have no answer.’

‘Doesn’t like me?’ Bill sat down abruptly. ‘That little witch has potentially ruined my life because she doesn’t like me?’

‘It’s a little early to be talking about your life being ruined,’

Bill looked up at the ceiling. ‘People don’t like you either.’

‘True.’

‘Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll have your back and you’ll have mine. I’ll tell them you had nothing to do with any of this and you do the same.’

Kent sighed. He had no illusions how vigorously Bill would defend him. ‘Anything you do for me I will be sure to reciprocate.’

***

Leigh was waiting when they came out.

‘You little witch! Who got to you?’ Bill demanded.

‘I told the truth,’ she said, lifting her chin. ‘I’m not the liar. I saw you try to blame Mr Davison.’

‘You –’

Kent stepped between them. ‘This will hardly aid you,’ he said to Bill.

‘Expect to hear from my lawyer,’ Bill called to Leigh as he stormed away. ‘Slander is serious, Missy.’

‘I didn’t slander him,’ she said.

‘Not at all.’ Kent put his hands on his hips. ‘A coffee?’

‘Yes, please.’

He wasn’t sure why he asked her, except that she had clearly been waiting to speak to him, and he was curious why. That Selina would disapprove was a flickering thought that weighed more towards doing it than not. He was still nursing wounds from her reaction, although she had been somewhat conciliatory since then. She hadn’t apologised but he hadn’t expected her to. In fairness she rarely demanded them either, preferring resentments and disagreements be forgiven when they were raised, however publicly. She didn’t even speak negatively of Amy, who had set a high bar in the airing of grievances.

‘How’ve you been?’ Kent asked.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘I have a new position.’

‘Excellent.’

‘At the Washington Post.’

Leigh took her coffee black and bitter. Just the thought made Kent’s teeth ache.

‘Which department?’ he asked.

‘Political,’ she said.

‘Of course.’ He swallowed a mouthful of coffee.

‘You could be my source,’ she said. ‘When you want to leak things.’

Kent nodded. ‘That could be invaluable.’

‘But please don’t murder me,’ she said. ‘That’s a “House of Cards” joke.’

Kent smiled. ‘Have you watched the BBC or Netflix version?’

‘Both. I preferred the original.’

‘As did I,’ he said. ‘In either case, I believe you are overestimating me. But I promise not to murder anyone.’

They both sipped their coffee.

‘I saw what you said about me,’ she said.

‘It was true.’

‘Even so. Thank you.’

Kent warmed his hands around his cup. ‘May I ask a question about your testimony?’

Leigh looked at him over her cup. ‘I can’t change it.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do so.’

She straightened up. ‘Very well.’

Kent lowered his voice. ‘Why Ericsson and Walsh?’

‘It was true,’ Leigh said. ‘Also I didn’t like them. I did consider naming Mr Egan.’

‘Understandable.’

‘But he doesn’t work in the West Wing anymore so he won’t make a good scapegoat.’ Leigh crossed her legs. ‘That’s how it works, isn’t it? Do you think it will be one of them or someone else?’

Kent nodded. ‘Bill.’

‘But not you.’

Kent raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t believe so.’

‘Why are you looking at me that way?’ Leigh asked.

‘Because I realise that you have a Machiavellian streak of which I was not aware.’

‘I would have been an excellent staffer,’ she said seriously.

‘Now you will be an excellent reporter instead.

***

It was late when Selina wandered into his office.

‘Wasn’t sure you’d still be here,’ he said.

‘I have a backlog of work.’

‘Yeah, committees are a pain in the ass the way they stop ya working.’ She perched on his desk. ‘Wish that was all they did.’

‘How’s Catherine?’ Kent tried.

‘What? Oh, she’ll be fine.’ Selina waved her hand. ‘She’ll get over it. Christ knows he’s not the first boyfriend who’s run out on her. If you could call Jason a boy.’ She cocked her head. ‘She’ll be back on the market soon. Not too old for ya is she?’

Kent winced. ‘Ma’am…’

‘I’m yanking your chain,’ Selina said, punching his shoulder. ‘I know she’s not your type.’ She flicked back her hair. ‘Christ, that Leigh chick was taking no prisoners.’

He was trying to move away but his chair was jammed. ‘She has little reason to protect us. I did ask why she felt Gary and Bill deserved to be singled out. She said it was the truth.’

‘Huh,’ Selina said. ‘There’s a novel concept.’

‘Indeed.’

‘You asked her at the committee?’

Kent shifted uncomfortably. ‘After we had both given evidence. There was no collusion.’

‘Sure, sure.’ She tapped her foot. ‘I was just… Just surprised.’

‘Surprised?’

Selina distractedly played with some of the stationary on his desk. ‘You think of guys our age sleeping with kids that age and there’s this image that forms. It’s not what you’d call a flattering image.’

Kent winced. ‘I don’t make a habit of it.’

‘You don’t seem like one of those creepy old man types,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

No. She had been quite clear that she thought he was the pathetic loser type.

‘Let’s be honest,’ she said, ‘she’s more likely to take advantage of you than the other way around.’

Kent frowned. ‘I naturally give way to the judgment of someone whose previous lover include a meathead who believes that the disabled are being punished for past misdeeds, and a philandering con-artist.’

Selina slapped his hand. ‘Hey!’

Kent snatched his hand back and shook it.

‘Says the man who dated Sue and followed it with a one-nighter with whatsherface.’

‘I see no reason to apologise for preferring the company of strong women,’ he said, scowling at her.

‘Quit being a baby,’ she said, a little flustered. ‘Christ, I barely touched you.’

He had to bite his tongue. The words _I wish you wouldn’t touch me_ piled up, agitating to be released into the world. Words he wouldn’t be able to take back.

He slapped her knee. He didn’t mean to do it. He hadn’t planned to do it. He was as surprised as she was.

‘Hey!’

‘Uh…’

‘Watch yourself, I’m not your little intern, Mister.’

‘I…I… I apologise…’

‘I should damn well think so,’ she said, standing up. She was trying not to smile.

***

She put her hand on his shoulder. Laughing. Excited. Her hand on his shoulder. Then, as he turned, her hand on his arm.

His chest was seizing. He couldn’t breathe.

She was laughing again, telling him he shouldn’t care about people making fun of him, to keep doing his “datas.”

He mustered a nod. A smile. To thank her.

The he managed an excuse and fled to his office. He braced himself against his desk. His was breathing in but every breath seemed to lodge in his lungs and refuse to leave.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be around her. Not when she touched him that way.

Kent took off his jacket and loosened his tie. Tomorrow. He’d send out some queries tomorrow. He had contacts. Options.

‘Y’okay?’

‘Shit!’

Selina put her hand on her hip. ‘Huh, don’t think I’ve heard you curse before. I must’ve scared the shit out of you.’

Kent pressed his hand to his forehead. ‘Forgive me, I was distracted. When you spoke it startled me.’

‘No fucking kidding.’ Selina swung her arms as she stalked forward.

Kent stepped back.

‘So, listen, I know we didn’t hit it off.’ She smacked her left fist into her right palm.

‘Uh…’

Selina sat on the end on his desk, trapping him against the wall. ‘We had a hate at first sight thing.’

He meant to smile politely and say nothing. ‘I never hated you.’

‘I hated your fucking guts,’ she said, swinging her legs. ‘But I get it. I was the vice president. You had to do what POTUS wanted. Apparently what that useless fucker wanted was to treat me like a piece of shit.’

Kent’s eyes flicked round the room but there was nowhere to go. ‘He didn’t appreciate you.’

‘That’s for damn sure.’ Selina crossed her legs. ‘Ben thinks you’re in here sulking. Which is bullshit because why the fuck would you be sulking when I just gave you an attaboy.’

‘I assure you that I’m not sulking.’

Selina gave him a cool look. It was the kind of look his mother described as ‘working out the price of your shoes.’

‘Look, you were my campaign manager and you are my senior strategist,’ she said. ‘I ride you hard because you’re important.’

‘Right.’

Selina stood up and put her hand on his upper arm. ‘Y’know, it’s a compliment. Kinda.’

He could feel her hand burning through his shirt.

‘So, we’re good?’ she asked, squeezing his arm.

He couldn’t pull away. Not without offence. He gave enough accidentally without doing it purposely.

He made a non-committal sound.

‘Ya look a little peaky,’ she said.

‘I feel somewhat…overly warm.’

She was rubbing his arm. _Rubbing_.

‘C’mon, we’re all having a drink to celebrate your hard work.’

Kent licked his lips. ‘I have work…’

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘Jesus, stop to smell the roses once in a while wouldya?’ She tugged at his sleeve. ‘Do I have to make it an order?’

 

Kent was nursing a scotch when a call came through from the British Prime Minister. Selina pulled a face and stalked off to take it. Kent fled to his office and gathered up his things. He turned when he heard his door opened. Gary was in the doorway, arms folded, and expression sneering.

‘What?’ Kent demanded.

‘I see the way you look at her,’ he said. ‘She’s never going to look at you the same way.’

Kent stared at him and then shrugged. ‘Or you.’

‘I am vital to her! _Vital_. She doesn’t even like you. She just puts up with you.’

Kent nodded. ‘I’m well aware of that.’

Gary’s shoulders dropped as he relaxed a fraction. ‘Oh.’ He put his bag on Kent’s desk. ‘It’s easier for you.’

‘I have no doubt that you think so.’

Gary opened his bag. ‘Do you have a glass?’

‘I have a cup.’

Gary produced a small flask of brandy. ‘It’s medicinal,’ he said off Kent’s look. ‘Being president is very stressful.’

‘So is being her staff.’

‘Oh God, tell me about it.’

Gary poured a small measure into Kent’s cup and held up the flask. ‘To Selina.’

‘To the rainbows of unreturned love,’ Kent said, tapping his cup against the flask.

‘What?’

‘Never mind,’ Kent said. ‘Drink.’

***

‘What’re you going to do?’ Rosalind asked.

Kent wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder. He was cooking an omelette and trying not to fall asleep on his feet.

‘Do?’ he asked.

Rosalind groaned audibly. ‘So you’re just going to carry on like this even though it’s making you miserable.’

‘I’m not miserable,’ he said flatly. ‘You don’t expect to have everything you want. Why should I? Some things are simply endured.’

Rosalind yawned audibly. ‘I wish you’d tell her. What do you have to lose?’

Kent sipped his wine. ‘Rosa, this is real life, not a romantic comedy. Telling her would accomplish nothing but awkwardness, embarrassment, and unemployment.’

‘Unemployment? Why would… Who…Oh. No. No…’

‘Rosalind –’

She sucked in a breath. ‘Kent, it’s not… I mean… Surely it can’t be _Selina Meyer_?’

‘Well, yes, but –’

‘Holy shit!’

Kent grabbed his glass of wine and took a gulp. ‘Why is that startling?’

‘Because she’s the president!’

Kent sighed. ‘You know that I work for her.’

‘I know that,’ she said. ‘But _hundreds_ of people work in the West Wing, don’t they? I didn’t realise… Do you work that closely with her?’

‘I’ve told you.’

‘Yeah, well, honestly your anecdotes can be a little impenetrable,’ she admitted.

The doorbell chimed loudly.

‘Someone’s at the door,’ Kent said.

‘Like the TV show?’ Rosalind asked.

‘What?’

‘The TV show. God, I loved that show. Good and evil and the myth of free will. All that stuff.’

Kent was in the hallway now. ‘I’m going to have to go. There’s someone outside.’

Rosalind clucked her tongue. ‘Call me in ten minutes.’

‘What? Why?’

She sighed. ‘Because someone turning up unexpectedly at this time of night is straight out of a horror movie. So call me back to let me know that you’re okay.’

‘Okay, sure,’ Kent said.

In deference to her concern, Kent flicked on the external security cameras: a group of people in suits were gathered on the doorstep. That meant something had gone catastrophically wrong at work.

He opened the door.

‘Mr Davison. Please stand aside.’

‘Agent Palmiotti?’

‘Stand aside,’ she said in the same monotone.

‘Why?’ he asked blankly.

‘We need to check the building.’

Kent stared at her blankly, until she put her hand on her service weapon. He stepped aside. ‘My omelette needs to be turned off.’

‘Understood.’

Three agents went inside. Two remained on the doorstep. Kent saw a bedroom light on in the house next door. That was Bud and Birdy Consecca. Wonderful. Within twenty-four hours everyone in a five-mile radius would’ve heard some mangled story about the Men in Black, or the CIA.

A few minutes later, the agents trooped out of the house. Palmiotti was on her cell.

‘Location is secure,’ Palmiotti stated and tucked her phone away. She turned to Kent. ‘Wait in your kitchen.’

‘For what?’

‘Wait in your kitchen.’

Kent rolled his eyes. In the kitchen, he texted Rosalind: _Secret Service. Work thing I assume. Will call you tomorrow._

His omelette was cooling on a plate. Kent seasoned it and sat down at the kitchen table.

‘Something smells good.’

Kent almost choked on a mouthful of food. He managed to swallow it and stood quickly.

‘Siddown, Kent. Christ, we’re in your kitchen,’ Selina said, swinging her arms. She was wearing casual slacks and a loose blouse. It wasn’t Kent’s area but he thought that she was wearing her makeup differently.

‘Ma’am?’

‘Jesus, ya can call me Selina when it’s appropriate.’ She flicked her hair back. ‘I hope this isn’t… They didn’t find any naked teenagers upstairs did they? Or naked anyone else.’

Kent rubbed his forehead. ‘Ma’am, why’re you here?’

‘Selina,’ she said. She turned to the sink and picked up a bowl from the drying rack. ‘What’s on these, cats? What re ya, six?’

‘Those are my cats’ feeding dishes.’

‘Oh yeah? You have, uh, two? Where are they?’

‘Hiding.’ Kent crossed his arms across his chest. ‘They become nervous when persons that they don’t know arrived unexpectedly in the middle of the night.’

Selina shrugged. ‘Thought cats were nocturnal.’

‘No,’ Kent said. ‘They’re crepuscular. They’re more active between dusk and dawn.’

‘That so?’ She pulled out the chair next to Kent but didn’t sit down. ‘Ya ran off when I was talking to the British PM.’

Kent’s back clenched. ‘It’s very late.’

‘I wanted to talk to you.’ She shook her head. ‘God, you’re such hard work.’

‘ _I’m_ hard work?’ Kent asked incredulously.

‘Duh. I had to come all the way to your freaking house to have this conversation.’

‘And I have no idea why.’

She threw up her hands. ‘Christ, you’re making this so fucking difficult.’

Kent covered his eyes with his hand. ‘Ma’am, there is a limit to human endurance.’

He heard her sit down and pull in the chair.

‘You’re telling me,’ Selina said quietly. ‘It seems like every time we start to click you freak out and run away, or date Sue, or fuck a teenager.’

Kent lowered his hand. Selina was looking down at her lap. In the dim light she looked very small and fragile.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ she said, stealing his glass of wine and taking a sip. ‘Ya do.’

His stomach was churning and clenching. He managed to stagger over to the sink and poured himself a glass of water.  

‘I don’t mind making the running,’ she said. ‘I fucking prefer it. Fuck getting chosen. I choose. I know I put up a front as stoic and calm –’

‘Really not.’

‘ – but I have feelings, Kent, okay?’ Selina shook her head. ‘I get that you some freaking issues but pulling away like I smell bad when I touch you is a shitty move.’

He forced down a glass of water. ‘Not always.’

Selina drained the wine. ‘Oh yeah. The rest of the time you tremble like a fucking baby rabbit.’

Kent flinched but sat back down.

‘Shit,’ she said. ‘That didn’t sound nearly as harsh in my head.’ She smacked his arm. ‘Say something.’

‘Ma’am, I don’t know what you want me to say.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘ _Selina_ , Christ! Do I need to carve it on my forehead?’ 

‘Please don’t do that.’

She touched the back of his hand with her fingertips. ‘You screwed whatsherface and I’m _guessing_ Sue. Although God knows what passes for sex with her. So ya obviously got up close and personal with them without freaking out.’

Kent played with his empty glass. ‘That’s different.’

‘Why?’

‘That was sex. I don’t deal well with physical contact that I don’t expect.’ Kent licked his lips. ‘My sister says I make her feel as though she’s assaulting me.’

She smiled slightly. ‘Gee I can’t imagine what that feels like. Oh wait, I know what that feels like. So ya hate being touched? That sounds freaking miserable.’

‘Not hate.’ He met her eyes for a moment. ‘I left this this evening because you kept touching me. It’s… overwhelming. You in particular. Being near you is… difficult.’

Selina snorted. ‘No fucking kidding.’

Kent clenched his jaw. ‘I was unaware that I do such a poor job of disguising my feelings.’

‘Get fucking used to it,’ she said, poking his arm. ‘How can you be so sensitive and work in politics?’

‘This isn’t work,’ he said.

Selina looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Sex is easier, huh?’

‘It’s different,’ Kent said. ‘It certain ways it is easier.’

She stood up. ‘So let’s have sex.’  

‘What?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Sex. Screwing. Fucking. Making the beast with two backs. We like each other, mostly. We’re attracted to each other. Don’t look so offended, I’ve seen the way ya look at me when ya think nobody sees.’ She pushed her hair back. ‘I’ve been trying to get ya to open up to me for fucking months. So let’s… what’s the Kent for it? Let’s copulate, or have sexual congress, or just let’s go to bed already.’

***  

Schrodinger was sprawled across the bed. Copenhagen was sat primly on a pillow.

‘Hey look,’ Selina said, nodding towards the bed. ‘It’s your girlfriend, the redhead.’

‘Boyfriend.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ She eyed Schrodinger. ‘What about that one?’

‘Female. She wants to smell you.’

Selina edged a little closer. ‘Why?’

Kent took off his watch. ‘It’s… polite. It’s like shaking hands for cats.’

She put her hand out, palm up, and watched Schrodinger sniff delicately. ‘Even your cats are weird about touching.’

***

Beneath the slightly earthy, woody scent of her perfume he could smell the light, delicate scent of her skin. She tasted of honey and vanilla.

He traced her jawline.

Her fingertips seared across his ribs.

He kissed her neck.

Her back arched.

‘A little harder?’ she asked.

‘Like this?’

‘Oh, fucking God, _yes_.’

Her nails grazed his back.

His fingers carded through her hair.

***

Kent heard Selina groan. He opened his eyes and turned to look at her. She was gently pushing Copenhagen away.

‘Your boyfriend wants to park his butt on my face.’ Selina frowned playfully. ‘Get that thoughtful look off your face.’

‘It simply occurred to me that in the entire history of the United States, it seems almost positive that no president has ever had cause to say that particular sentence and may never again.’

Selina snorted. ‘Let’s hope so.’

Kent stroked the back of her hand. She seemed so very small and slight, as if she’d break at his touch. She was so loud, brash, and aggressive that it was easy to forget.

‘Don’t get sappy on me,’ she said.

‘No.’

She turned to look at him. ‘Because I don’t do sappy.’

Kent nodded. ‘Understood.’

Selina kept looking at him. To the point where he grew uncomfortable.  

‘Good,’ she said, and kissed him.

The End.


End file.
